


You Talk a Lot

by befree2



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deadpool/Spiderman - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Porn With Plot, Smut, Spideypool - Freeform, Voyeurism, Wade Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/befree2/pseuds/befree2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool has been helping take down criminals and watching Spider-man's back, but he keeps running off as soon as a fight is over. Naturally, Spider-man suspects that he's up to no good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things that Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-man or Deadpool.
> 
> A/N: Two-shot. Porn with a bit of plot mixed in. Peter's thoughts are in 'italics'. Enjoy!

“Heya fellas,” Spider-man swung into the alleyway, sticking a graceful landing in front of a girl who had flattened herself against the wall. “You don’t look like her type,” he said, pointing to the two men who had been closing in on her. They hesitated.

“Mind your own business, mutant,” the man on the right spat.

“You know, even if I _were_ a mutant, I don’t think I’d find that very threatening. Besides, why d’ya think mutants are so bad, huh? What makes someone a bad person, sticking to walls or trying to rape girls behind bowling alleys?”

“He _said_ mind your own business,” the second man said slowly.

Peter mentally sized up their respective threats and decided to take out Lefty first since he seemed to be holding a pistol under his jacket. He kicked the man’s arm, sending the gun flying out of his pocket and out of his grip, then webbed his arm to the wall before turning to Righty.

His Spidey-senses went off for a split-second, then stopped abruptly as something red and black swung in front of his eyes. He stepped back in momentary confusion, watching Righty’s eyes widen as Deadpool pulled a knife out of his palm.

 _‘He just took a knife for me_.’

“Man, oh _man_ !” Deadpool shook his head, seemingly oblivious to his wound as he waved the knife around animatedly. “That was a cheap shot, my friend. Trying to throw a knife at Spider-man’s _back_ ? Don’t you have any _dignity_ ? Or, y’know, _brains_?” Deadpool tapped his own forehead with the flat of the knife, clearly rolling his eyes beneath the mask.

“Thanks, Deadpool,” Peter told him sincerely, cutting off the impending rant. Deadpool grinned and stepped aside to let Peter web the man up. “I owe you. And you,” he turned to the girl, who was still flattened against the back wall of the bowling alley, “You should stick around and talk to the cops. Don’t let these two get away with anything, alright?”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and looked over Spider-man’s shoulder to Deadpool. “And thank _you_ ,” she added, a little breathlessly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m peachy,” Deadpool grinned, holding up his quickly-healing hand. “See, all better!” The girl looked a little sick. “I’ll catch you later, Baby Boy!”

“Where are you going alrea-?” Peter called after him, but he was already gone. “Later,” he replied into the alley, furrowing his brows before he turned back to the girl. “I’ll stay with you until the police get here, alright?” he said gently.

 

* * *

 

The next time Spider-man ran into Deadpool, it was in Midtown where a young mutant had rampaged through the streets, throwing cars and busting buildings in a show of unrestrained brute strength. Peter had tried to talk sense into the boy, but he’d failed miserably and two more taxis had taken a hit. The boy didn’t stop until Deadpool showed up and kicked him in the face.

“Are you _finished_?” he asked impatiently, as if speaking to a toddler. There was a blade to the boy’s throat. When the boy froze and averted his eyes, Deadpool lowered the knife and stepped back.

“Thank you _again_ , Deadpool,” Peter said, stepping up to where the two stood. “The police are on their way, kid. So are a few friends of mine who can-”

“No!” the boy tensed again and made to run, but Peter webbed his feet together and Wade landed a punch to the boy’s jaw, knocking him over.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Peter frowned, looking over his unconscious face.

_‘But it was pretty effective.’_

Deadpool shrugged. “Wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t gotten him worked up. Besides, it worked, didn’t it? Anyways, I’m starving. It’s taco time! See ya,” he threw Spider-man a grin and a wave as he strolled away, just as police lights started to fill the street.

 

* * *

 

“Got a hot date?” Spider-man asked, just as Deadpool made to disappear down the fire escape. Half a dozen criminals were webbed up on the floor of the warehouse, and Spider-man would be lying if he said it would have been easy rounding them up without Deadpool’s help. A few well-placed kicks by the mercenary had just saved him from being outmaneuvered by the thugs.

“Hot date?” he raised his eyebrows beneath the mask. “Baby Boy, I ain’t had a date in _years_. Gotta pay for that sort of thing nowadays.”

“You’ve been quick to leave lately,” Peter said off-handedly. “I was just wondering why you’ve been running off so fast.”

‘ _Just wondering why you haven’t been following me around and trying to grope me after every fight lately.’_

“Aww, you miss me?” Deadpool teased. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweet cheeks,” he laughed. “I’d love to stick around and admire that fucking specimen of a tight ass, but I’ve got something to take care of and you seem like your hands are already full. See ya around," he winked and was gone with a wave. Spider-man sighed, glancing at his captives.

_‘He’s got to be up to something.’_

 

* * *

 

The next time he ran into Deadpool, Spider-man’s curiosity got the better of him and he decided to follow Deadpool once the night’s bad-guys had been incapacitated.

_‘Only thanks to Deadpool. Again. He’s been more than helpful lately.’_

He left a criminal webbed up with a post-it note stuck to the guy's forehead and set off in the direction that Deadpool had disappeared to. He snuck into a likely-looking but empty alleyway and swung up onto the roof, landing silently.

 _‘What am I even_ doing _?’_ ’

Spider-man stopped, a muffled noise catching his attention. The soft sound of metal against metal led him over to the door, where he slid around the corner to a sight he _definitely_ hadn’t been expecting; Deadpool leaned against the door, one glove off and his pants pushed down to his knees as he jacked off. His mask was still on, but what skin could be seen was scarred over exactly as Spider-man remembered seeing on his bare face. His hands, thighs-even his erection looked to be covered with scars.

_‘Holy mother of-’_

Spider-man quickly retreated, flattening himself against the wall. He could still hear Deadpool’s hand moving, quickening even, and his breath catching. Deadpool let a desperate sound escape, the gravel beneath his feet shifting a little. “ _Fuck!_ ” he hissed, and there was a hollow _thump_ that might have been his head falling back against the door.

_‘I should leave. Why haven’t I left yet?’_

Spider-man squeezed his eyes closed.

_‘This is wrong. I should go.’_

The sounds coming from other side of the wall came to an abrupt stop, followed by a hitch in breath and then a grunt. Spider-man’s eyes opened wide and he swallowed hard as he listened to Deadpool’s labored breathing slowly return to normal.

After a minute of silence, Deadpool moved again. He aimed a pistol around the corner of the wall, but Spider-man was already gone and Deadpool was left threatening an empty roof with his pants around his knees.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Spidey!”

Spider-man froze at the sound of Deadpool’s voice, but tried to play it off. “Deadpool,” he said flatly. “I haven’t found any trouble tonight.”

“Aw, nothin’ exciting?” he pouted. “I guess I can go make my own trouble,” he shrugged. “But first, _tacos_.”

“Wait-!”

Deadpool hesitated, about to leave, and spun back around to face him, head tilting questioningly. “Yeah?” he prompted.

Peter’s face flushed beneath the mask as he struggled, “Uh-just be careful. There are some rumors going around that there might have been a couple of Skrulls lurking around the city.”

“Ah-thanks! I don’t get the Avengers’ memos, ya know.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Later, Spidey.”

“Later.”

He followed Deadpool, only to be left confused and-

_‘Disappointed?’_

-confused, when he realized that he had, indeed, only gone to get tacos. He watched, disgusted, as the man licked cheese off his glove and continued to shovel down the bag of fast food.

 _‘Disappointed that I don’t get to perv-’_ Spider-man ran his hands over his face in frustration, trying to end his thought process. _‘He’s a man. He’s a_ he _. He’s kills for hire.’_ He swung up between the nearest couple of buildings and set off for home. _‘There’s something wrong with me. I should get a girlfriend. Someone nice and normal. God, When’s the last time I even got laid?’_ He landed outside of his own building and quickly scaled the wall to slide back into his bedroom window.

 

* * *

 

“ _You talk a lot_.”

" _You_  talk a lot,” Spider-man countered.

Deadpool grinned. “Yes. I talk about things that matter, though.”

“You talk about ass and tacos and killing and jacking off,” Spider-man sighed, watching the police cars drive away with the night’s caught criminals.

_‘He hasn’t left yet? He’s been leaving fast lately-either to get tacos or masturbate in public. So why is he still here?’_

“See, all the most important things in life,” Deadpool poked at him with a gloved finger. “ _You_ talk to yourself when you’re trying to figure things out in your head. And you talk and try to make bad jokes when you _should_ be fighting bad guys. I think you’re a little crazier than you let on, y’know?”

“I might be a bit out of my mind,” Peter admitted wryly.

_‘I’m sure of it. You might be half the reason for it.’_

“You definitely _are_ ,” Deadpool nodded enthusiastically. “Not that it’s a _bad_ thing, of course. I don’t think you _could_ be one hundred percent sane and rational and think that swinging around between skyscrapers on some homemade web-shooter is a good idea.”

“Well I don’t think it’s all sane and rational for you to go on and on about sex while you’re _killing people for cash_ , but we all have our faults, don’t we?”

_‘Why did I say that?’_

“Hey, I haven’t killed anyone for _ages_ ,” Deadpool grinned, then lowered his voice. “Besides, doesn’t a good fight get you _excited_?”

_‘Holy-!’_

“E-what? No!”

Deadpool raised his eyebrows behind his mask. “Come one, between the rush of the fight, the smell of gunpowder, the skintight suit-you can’t tell me you’ve never gotten off on-”

“No!”

_‘Does he really-?’_

“Not even _once_? The adrenaline alone-”

“ _No_ ,” Peter repeated shrilly. “And I find it highly disturbing that you _do_.”

_‘And yet I still found myself spying on you after that fight last month.’_

“Whatever floats your boat,” Deadpool said cheerily, and hesitated for only the briefest moment before he turned away.

 

* * *

 

The next time he caught Deadpool jacking off in public, it was completely by accident.

_‘Unlike last time.’_

Spider-man had been swinging around near the park when he caught the glint of metal reflecting streetlights and went to investigate. He’d found Deadpool underneath a picnic table, laying across a bench and stroking himself almost lazily. His katanas lay unsheathed across the tabletop.

 _‘Was he out fighting someone? Is that what put him in the mood tonight? Why aren’t I leaving? I shouldn’t be turned on by this. I’m_ not _. I’m_ not. _’_

“Surprised you’re here today,” Deadpool said softly, his hand keeping pace. Peter stiffened where he was, crouched in the grass behind the half-wall of the picnic shelter, but didn’t respond or move away. “Twice now? A little unfair, don’t you think? Maybe you could ah-” he licked his lips audibly, “You could t _ake care of yourself_ here, ya know? You don’t have to go running off this time. I might like to...listen-” the words tumbled out of his mouth,  “I could get off on listening to you get off while listening to me...That sentence was fucked up. You get the point, though, don’cha?”

Peter’s chest was pounding.

He might have blamed his next move on boredom; it was a quiet night, after all, and he had little better to do. Simple boredom, however, did not explain why listening to the steady rhythm of Deadpool’s hand was making him hard.

_‘Later.’_

Peter decided that it wasn’t the time to analyze exactly what made him shove the bottoms of his suit down and remove his protective cup, which was quickly growing more and more uncomfortable. Deadpool moaned at the sound of the fabric being pushed against skin. “Fuck, you’re gonna do it, aren’t you? Oh, sweet mother o-” he cut himself off and took a deep breath.

Peter, leaning against the thin plywood half-wall between them, started to stroke himself in time to the sound other man’s pulls.

“Are you touching yourself?” Deadpool asked after a moment, his voice lowering. “Nice and slow, yeah? Fuck, that feels _good_ , Baby. You got a big cock, don’t you? I’d love to suck it,” he panted, and paused. Spider-man was self-conscious of his own heavy breathing for a few long moments, before he realized that Deadpool had only paused to spit in his hand. The lubrication made the sound of his hand all the more obscene. “Nnng, nice ‘n wet, Sugar,” he breathed. “You’d feel fucking fantastic in my mouth. I bet you’re _t_ _hick_ huh? D’ya think I could swallow it all?”

Peter’s breath hitched.

“Bet you’d like to hear what I wanna do to you, too, don’cha? You like to listen?” Deadpool’s words began to lose coherence. “Dirty little-jackin’ off in public like this. Anyone could walk by and see- _Fuck_ !” Deadpool was fisting himself hard and fast now, the wet, unmistakable sound was driving Peter toward orgasm embarrassingly fast. “You could come in my mouth, Baby. Let me have it, _please_?”

 _“Mmph!”_ Peter down on his own lip to stop himself from making noise, but Deadpool had already heard him.

“That’s it, Baby. You wanna hear me beg for it? Maybe next time you’ll let me touch you? I’ll do anything,” Deadpool’s voice was coming in ragged pants. “Tie me up, blindfold me, take all my weapons-I don’t care- _Anything_ -I wanna touch you _, please_ , Sugar. I wanna make you come- Always showing off that tight ass in-Let me swallow your load,   _Please!_ ”

“ _Ahh-nnng!_ ” Peter clamped down on his left arm to quiet himself as he came in his hand.

“ _Yes. Fuck_! Nn-ggh!” Deadpool dissolved into a strangled groan and then a desperate whimper. He came, gasping and shuddering as he listened to Peter’s still-ragged breathing.

It took Peter a minute to catch his breath and begin to recover from his daze. When he did, he slowly noticed that he was sweaty and exposed and kneeling in the damp grass.

It took until was home, showered and in bed before his mind started to process what had just happened.

 _‘Shit. What did I do? That was so wrong-I’ve never come so hard-I’m not gay. Deadpool knew I was a man, he must be-_ God, _the shit he was saying, though. The dirty-talk alone-I’m going to be jacking off to that for_ months _.’_

Peter’s eyes shot open, realization hitting him all-too late; _‘Always showing off my tight ass!’_

“Oh, _shit_.”

 

* * *

 

_‘What in holy hell am I doing?’_

Spider-man had ducked away from the aftermath of a particularly violent fight, leaving without a word to either Captain America or Hawkeye, who had shown up to help neutralize the threat. Instead, he had followed after his _other_ ally; Deadpool. The mercenary had swept in, kicked ass, and left without so much as a word to any of the heroes.

 _‘Where did he_ go _?’_

Spider-man had gone ten blocks before it occurred to him that he may have overlooked the man and he turned back around. This time, he found the red and black suit only two blocks away from where he had originally started and he was less than surprised to find him sitting against the ledge of a roof with his knees spread and his dick out.

_‘Found you.’_

Deadpool was already pumping himself frantically when Spider-man landed on the brick of the wall behind him. He listened, frozen against the side of the building as Deadpool made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat and bit down a moan.

Spider-man stayed still and silent as Deadpool finished himself off, quick and dirty and all the while making the most obscene noises-

 _‘Home. I should go home. I shouldn’t have even_ come _here in the first place.’_

As Deadpool came down from orgasm, still catching his breath, he suddenly spoke. “I meant what I said,” he offered, “You don’t have to talk and I won’t try to look at your face or anything...I’m not even asking you to reciprocate! I just want to make you feel good. _Please_?” Deadpool swallowed self-consciously and listened for any sign of response, or even movement, but was met with nothing. Peter swung off the ledge toward home, not daring to look back.

_‘I need a shower. I shouldn’t have followed him. Cold shower. Bed.’_

 

* * *

 

“Are you two feeling _lucky_ tonight?” Spider-man taunted, swinging in around the two criminals who he had tracked from an earlier bank robbery to the parking lot of a casino.

“What the-?”

“Oh, shit!”

Peter landed in front of the two men and stepped forward menacingly, “D'ya wanna put a bet out on which one of us is going to walk home free tonight?

“Hey, we’re just here to gamble, you mutant freak!” One of the men said boldly.

“Oh, I don’t have a problem with that. If _you_ wanna gamble your own money away, you’re more than welcome to, but I’m not going to let you gamble with that cash you stole today. “

Peter watched their faces turn from anxiety and anger to full-blown panic and easily dodged three bullets from the larger of the men.

“Shoot him!”

“I don’t think you should do that,” Peter frowned. “‘S’not very nice,” he webbed the gun from the smaller man before he managed to even get the safety off and kicked the gun away from the other, catching the firearm easily. “Drop the cash,” Peter ordered. “Now.”

The men looked at each other, but didn’t move.

“I said drop the cash. Everything you stole,” Peter repeated, raising the gun to aim between the two. “Put it on the ground.”

“Do it,” the smaller man said, defeated.

“But Ja-?”

“I said _do it_!” he growled, and threw a backpack on the ground. The larger man tossed out a duffel bag reluctantly, and Peter kept the gun aimed at them until the police arrived to handcuff the men.

 

 

 

“Hey, Spidey,” a familiar voice called out. Peter tensed where he sat on the ledge of the roof, but didn’t try to move away as Deadpool sat down next to him. “I saw you corner those bank robbers, Spidey. Very smooth. And you didn’t even hurt anyone or blow anything up. It was pretty _exciting_ to _watch you_ hold a gun, too.”

 _‘He knows. Shit. I knew that he_ knew _, but now he’s saying this on purpose.’_

“I don’t like guns,” Peter frowned.

Deadpool sighed, dropping the cheery demeanor. “Yeah, I’ve figured that much out already.”

Peter didn’t respond for a long moment. “And,” he licked his lips nervously, “What else have you figured out?”

Deadpool slowly turned his head toward Peter, who was suddenly immensely thankful for the Spider-man mask. “I’ve got a few more working theories about you,” he said finally, uncertainly. “Although I’m pretty sure you’ve just confirmed one.”

“Yeah? Glad one of us has it figured out,” Peter bit back.

Deadpool’s mouth, expressive even behind his own mask,was frowning in a way that made Peter distinctly uncomfortable. “Look,” he sighed, “I’m not going to take offense, Spidey. I know I’m hideous. I know that _you_ know I’m hideous. I don’t blame you for not wanting anything to do with this ugly mug. I mean, half the time I can’t even _pay_ someone to touch this. I just-”

_‘He thinks this is about his skin.’_

“Wade,” Peter cut him off sharply, “Shut _up_ a minute.” Deadpool obeyed out of the shock of hearing his real name more than anything, waiting out the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them as Peter tried to string a sentence together. Deadpool was about to open his mouth just to break the tension when Spider-man finally spoke. “I don’t have a problem with you being…”

“Fugly?”

“Disfigured?” Peter winced as he realized that it sounded just as bad, maybe worse. “Look, I just-I’ve never been...you’re a _man_ ,” Peter swallowed hard before he plunged on, voicing all of the thoughts that he’d been too afraid to actually think too hard about. “I-I thought I was straight. I’m too old to be having a fucking _identity crisis_ and I suddenly discover that not only do I apparently get off on voyeurism and masturbating in public, but that I’m more turned on just by _listening_ to a man jack off than I’ve ever been with any of the women I’ve been with-” he took a deep breath and added, “ _Plus_ the fact that you _kill people._ For _money_. And get off on it!”

“This has been eating you, hasn’t it?”

Peter’s shoulders sagged. “The only thing that _didn’t_ cross my mind as being a problem was your skin.”

Deadpool frowned again. “Look, Spidey,” he said honestly, “I can’t say that I’m sorry for being the one to make you question your sexuality. I’m pretty flattered, actually. I _am_ sorry that I’ve caused you all of this grief just because I can’t seem to behave in public. I feel the need to point out, though, that maybe you’re not even turned on because I’m a guy, but because of the whole voyeuristic aspect of it. Maybe you _are_ straight but you’re just kinky enough to forget that when you’re spying on someone?”

_‘But that’s not it.’_

Peter hesitated, “That’s-I don’t think...I’m not completely straight,” he admitted quietly. His pulse was pounding again, and he laughed a little manically. “I haven’t said that out loud before.”

"I...I turned Spider-man gay?" Deadpool was staring at him in awe.

"Maybe...maybe you've turned Spider-man bi?" Peter said tentatively. "I don't even fucking know."

Deadpool's delighted smile didn't fade. "I turned Spider-man bi without even touching him," he said dreamily. "I know, right? Shut up. Maybe the new laptop will last longer than they usually do."

"Uh-laptop?" Peter asked carefully. Deadpool hadn't seemed to be addressing him.

"Don't worry about it," he grinned, focusing back onto Spider-man's masked face. "Hey, I'm starving. You wanna go get burritos?"

"That's alright," Peter declined, not unkindly. "I just-I think I need to go home and sleep on everything."

"Of course," Deadpool said quickly, standing up. His face was blank again. "Think it all over-yeah, I gotcha."

Peter swallowed. "Next time?"

Deadpool blinked. "Next...?"

"Burritos. Next time?"

"Oh, yeah!" he answered back a little overenthusiastically. His mask was slowly stretching into a hopeful smile.

_‘His mood swings-’_

"Next time, then. G'night, Spidey!"

"Goodnight, Deadpool,” Peter said evenly, and offered him a lazy wave before he disappeared.


	2. Nothing Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-man or Deadpool.
> 
> A/N: What little pretense of plot this story had seems to have been taken over by the smut. Peter's thoughts are in 'italics'. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews an enjoy!

Deadpool sucked in a breath, startled for the briefest moment as a hand landed on his shoulder. “Spidey?” he looked up in relief, recognizing the mask before he’d even moved to kick the newcomer. “I didn’t even hear you comin’. Wa’sup?”

  
_‘What in holy Hell is hanging off of his forearm? How can he still sit here conscious and talking to me with his arm mangled up like that?’_

  
Peter wrenched his eyes away from the man’s hands, which were mutilated beyond recognition. “Heard about you on the police scanner,” he finally answered, “I was wondering if you were alright?”

  
“Oh, never better,” Deadpool grinned behind his own mask. “Hands come back in no time and my foot should heal up before morning. I’ll be good as new.”

  
“Can I do anything?” Spider-man asked instead.

  
Wade let the grin drop and answered seriously. “Not really. Thanks, though.”

  
“Painkillers?”

  
“Don’t work. I metabolize them too quickly.”

  
“Oh...how about tacos?”

  
Deadpool’s head turned fast. “ _Tacos_?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m always starving after I get bruised up bad, so I figured you might be a little bit hungry.”

  
“Tacos sound fucking amazing,” he deadpanned. “And yes, I am always hungrier than usual after I get my ass kicked.”

 

 

 

By the time Spider-man returned with a bag full of tex-mex and two cups of Dr. Pepper, Deadpool’s hands were partially regrown, enough that he was able to clumsily open the wrappers and manage to feed himself, although he still wasn’t able to get his fingers around the drink cup to pick it up yet.

  
Spider-man, to his credit, only chuckled the first time he watched Deadpool bend down to suck Dr. Pepper out of his straw. After that, it was sad and disturbing so he ate the rest of his own tacos quietly. “So, do you lose limbs often?”

  
“Oh, loads,” Deadpool swallowed a bite. “Hands are the best though.” Spider-man turned blankly towards him. “Nothin’ like polishing your pickle with soft little hands when you’re so used to feeling the scars and-”

  
“Okay- _ew_ _w_."

 

Deadpool just laughed. “He thinks I’m joking,” he said offhandedly. “This isn’t how I meant to cash in that ‘next time’, by the way.”

  
“Me neither,” he sighed, and silence stretched between them.

  
_‘How did I really want to cash it in, then? Like that dream the other night? Or-’_

  
“Fucking delicious,” Deadpool hummed. The quiet must have been killing him, and Peter was grateful to him for pulling him out of his thoughts.

  
“Mm-hmm,” Spider-man chewed a bit slower than usual. They sat next to each other, masks up to their noses as they stuffed their faces and Peter was openly studying the scars on the man’s chin.

  
“Will ya stop with the-” Deadpool pointed to his own face to illustrate, “- _Looking_? No one wants to see that while they eat.”

  
“Sorry,” Peter said quickly, realizing that he’d been staring. “But I think you’re over-exaggerating.”

  
“Oh, no. I’m hideous. But, you know what? Go ahead and look if you wanna look. And if there’s anything else you wanna see...” Deadpool leered.

  
“Eat your tacos.” Peter frowned.

  
“Yes, mummy.”

  
“Good boy,” Spider-man shot back.

  
“Oh, I’m a good boy? Do I get a treat? Doggy wanna _bone_ ,” he grinned.

  
Spider-man stuffed the last taco in his mouth to shut him up. “Maybe later,” he replied flatly. “Can I help you get home or anything?”

  
Deadpool swallowed the taco whole as he shook his head. “I’ll be fine. You can come home with me if you want, though,” he winked. “You did say ‘later’?-didn’t he? I’m pretty sure that was real-I _know_ we look like shit-”

  
Peter shook his head disdainfully. “Get yourself home in one piece, will ya?”

  
“Sure thing, sweet cheeks,” Deadpool promised, positively chipper.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to hear from me again?” Deadpool growled.

  
“No,” the man against the wall squeaked, eyes shut tight.

  
“Look me in the fucking _eyes_!” Deadpool shouted, shoving his pistol up against the man’s head. “Do you want to see me again, Kevin?”

  
The man swallowed hard and opened his eyes. “No! I won’t-won’t touch her, I promise.”

  
“ _Wrong answer_!” Deadpool shouted again, spit flying in the man’s face as he pulled the hammer back and the gun made a click.

  
“I’ll never look at her! I’ll never drive past her house again. I’ll move to another state!”

  
Deadpool let one arm down, keeping the gun on his head. “That’s a _fantastic_ idea, Kevin. Do you think you can manage to keep away from nice pretty girls in another state, too? Because I’ll know if you don’t. Even if it’s not Michelle, I’ll kill you and your mother, and your grandpa and your fucking pet _fish_ , Kevin.”

  
“How did you know I had a pet fish?” He cowered.

  
“Because I _know_ things. You keep yourself kosher, and I won’t have to touch Mommy or Grandpap or your nephew, Riley or even your fucking angelfish. It’s all up to _you_ , Kevin. Can you play nice from now on?”

  
“Yes!” he squeaked.

  
“Good. You’re going to go to work one last time, Kevin. You’re going to go in early tomorrow at six o’clock, alright?”

  
“A-alright.”

  
“What time was the that?” Deadpool hissed.

  
“Six o’clock!”

  
“Good. You’re going to pack your desk and hand in your resignation and you’re going to leave before six-thirty. You aren’t going to hang around in the parking lot or drive by her house or even drive past her car-I know you know what route she takes-you’re not going to try to catch a glimpse of her one last time, however tempting it may be. You aren’t going to do it, are you?”

  
“No. In and out. And then I’ll move,” the man was nodding now. “I’ll go to Oklahoma-or...or Idaho or Alaska! Yeah, Alaska sounds-”

  
“Good,” Deadpool grinned behind his mask and slung an arm around the man’s shoulders, still keeping the gun against his temple with the other hand. “I’m so glad we could chat and catch up, Kev. If you ever want to see me again, you know how to get my attention,” he said sweetly, and pushed the man away from him toward the end of the alley. Deadpool waited until he could no longer hear the man’s frantic footsteps to holster his gun. “I’m surprised you didn’t fuck that up” he said, seemingly to no one. “I thought you were going to jump in and try to save him.”

  
“Seemed like he probably deserved the scare,” Spider-man returned, coming out from behind the wall as Deadpool turned to face him.

  
“He deserved a lot worse,” Deadpool said gleefully. “If he fucks up again, I’m going to castrate him and make him eat his own-”

  
“Ew,” Peter held up his hands. “I don’t want to know.”

  
Deadpool shrugged. “So, what is New York’s favorite superhero up to tonight?”

  
Spider-man shrugged a little awkwardly. “Slow night,” he said. “Not much to do.”

  
“Yeah?” Deadpool took a step toward him, making Peter jump a little. “Except to perv on mercenaries who are just tryin’ to do their job? Or do ya always walk around half-hard on a slow night?”

  
“I-I’m not-”

  
_‘Shit.’_

  
“Spandex isn’t very forgiving,” he glanced downward for a lingering moment. “But damn it looks good on you. And you didn’t even wear a cup today! Did you just know the criminals were laying low tonight or...maybe-were you expecting something _else_ to happen?” Deadpool took another step forward, coming within arm’s length of Spider-man but not quite pressing close enough to make him feel cornered. “What’s got you all hot and bothered tonight, Spidey? Were you out here looking for me? Hoping to catch me _in the act_ again?”

  
“I wasn’t-uh.”

  
_‘Yes! Not really looking, but-'_

  
Deadpool tilted his masked head to one side thoughtfully. “Or maybe you weren’t even _looking_ for me. Maybe you just waltzed by this particular alley by accident and heard me threatening that creep.” Deadpool’s voice dropped to a serious tone, “You heard what I’m going to do to him, Spidey, didn’cha? Do you _like_ watching me work?”

  
Spider-man’s eyes widened, unseen under the mask but his sharp intake of breath was audible.

  
“Tell me, do you get all _flustered_ when someone else is giving orders?”

  
“I-” Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he snapped his mouth shut.

  
“I asked you a question,” Deadpool took a half-step forward, finally closing in on Peter as his voice lowered dangerously, still half-curious. “Answer it.”

  
“Yes,” Peter croaked. His face was burning and he was grateful for the mask once again.

  
Deadpool paused, almost startled for a moment before he continued, smirking. “Do you like being told what to do?”

  
Peter nodded jerkily.

  
“Answer,” Deadpool told him again, more firmly. “Answer with words.”

  
“Y-yes…”

  
Wade was torn between awe and arousal. “I can tell you what to do for the rest of the night, if you’d let me,” he offered, voice hoarse.

  
Spider-man gasped. “... _Please?_ "

  
Deadpool groaned inwardly, breaking from the strict persona. “Fuck, he’s perfect. It's too much...No-not in a dirty alley,” he spoke absently before he seemed to tune back into the real world. “My place,” he said decisively, focusing back in on Peter.

  
“I...Yeah. Where do you live?”

 

 

 

Peter stepped carefully into the dark apartment, glancing around as Wade snapped the door shut behind him. It was not unlike his own place, messy but livable, although the walls themselves were a bit more run-down and the distinct smell of gun oil hung in the air.

  
Deadpool stepped up behind him and ghosted the tips of his fingers over Peter’s waist, nudging the back of his neck with his nose. “If you want out, just say ‘Uncle’.” Peter laughed, but the voice in his ear was all business. “No, all seriousness here; ‘Uncle’ is the magic word, honey-buns. Say it and we stop, then you go home and I spend the rest of the evening with ole reliable.” gave his fingers a wiggle at Peter’s side.

  
“Got it,” he swallowed. “I don’t plan on that happening.”

 

Deadpool lifted his mask up to his nose, grinning predatorily. “Oh? So you _were_ planning this?”

  
“My mask-” Peter turned around to face him suddenly, anxious.

  
“Don’t move your hands,” Deadpool told him, calm. He guided Peter’s hands behind his back, where Peter gripped his own wrists to hold the position as Wade reached up to trace the seam where Spider-man’s mask met the suit. “I will not completely remove the mask, but I wanna see your lips, Spidey,” he hooked his thumbs under the mask and rolled it up to Peter’s nose. “I’ve only even seen this much a few times, ya know? And from what I can see, you look fucking amazing,” he ran a gloved thumb over Peter’s bottom lip, and Peter bit the fabric, wrenching the glove off of Deadpool’s hand as he pulled away.

  
“Oh?” Wade grinned darkly. “I didn’t say you could do that, you know? Maybe I should punish you.” Peter spat the glove onto the ground and Wade pulled his other glove off as he asked, “How do you think I should punish you, hm? You wanted bare hands, didn’t you? Maybe I should slap you,” he ran the back of his knuckles over Peter’s exposed jawline. “Can I slap you, Spidey?”

  
_‘Slap me? Why would-but oh fuck, that shouldn't be that hot-’_

  
“Yes, please…” Peter swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

  
_‘Did I really just say that? What is he doing? Maybe he’s not really going to do it. Maybe he was just-’_

  
_**Smack!** _ Peter jumped at the sting to his cheek and almost made to rub at it until he remembered that Wade had told him not to move his hands.

  
“So perfect,” Wade said reverently, reaching up to soothe over the spot for him. “Perfect and pale...I wanna see your face all red. ” The hand pulled back and before Peter had even registered the loss of touch he was hit with another _**smack!**_

  
“Mmm-!” Peter bit back a moan as his cock twitched.

  
“You _love_ this,” Wade whispered, almost awestruck. He leaned in and bit at Peter’s ear, stroking his face lightly. “Don’t you?”

  
Peter struggled to admit it out loud until another _**smack!**_ landed on his cheek, harder than before. “Oh, fuck! Yes!” Peter blurted.

  
“Good,” Deadpool breathed, and he was rubbing the spot gently again in slow circles that took away the sting left by his palm.

  
_**Smack!** _ Peter whimpered, breathing hard as he tried to lean his face into Wade’s hand but there was no gentle touch to follow this time.

  
“You’re holding back,” Wade frowned. “I want to hear you, Spidey. I want the neighbors to hear you, do you understand?”

  
“Yes.”

  
_**Smack!**_

  
“Yes!” Peter repeated, louder. Behind his back, his fingers were digging into his own wrists.

  
_**Smack!** _ “Yes, what?” Wade urged, his hand hovering in front of Peter’s face, ready to hit or soothe him depending on the answer.

  
“Yes, sir?” Peter tried uncertainly. _**Smack!**_ “Oh, fuck!-yeah,” he moaned. Each slap was getting harder and his erection was straining against the spandex of his suit. _**Smack!**_ His head turned with the force of the blow this time, and he managed to scream “Yes, Sir!” between heavy pants.

  
“That’s better,” Wade said softly, bringing his hand up to rub over Peter’s face. “You look good like this,” he smiled and caressed his cheekbone all the way up to where the mask covered. “I wanna touch you. Can I touch you, Spidey?”

  
“Please,” Peter choked, and quickly added, “Sir.”

  
Wade hummed in satisfaction. “Good,” he tugged at Peter’s suit. “You can move your hands to take off your suit.” Peter did so with less embarrassment than he had expected, peeling off the spandex and stepping out of it as gracefully as he could under Wade’s intense, unseen gaze. He barely managed to get his foot out and shake the costume to the floor before Wade was tugging at his waist, pulling him in close. “Commando?” Wade grinned. “You _were_ looking to catch me with my pants down, weren’t you?”

  
“I…” He licked his lips nervously, expecting to be hit for his hesitance, but Deadpool waited patiently for him to string a sentence together. “I wasn’t explicitly looking, but I might have been _hoping_ to…y’know...”

  
Wade didn’t slap him for failing to answer fully, and Peter was almost disturbed with his own disappointment at that fact. Instead, Deadpool laced one hand around the back of Peter’s neck as the other traced his hipbone.

 

“Please?” Peter breathed.

  
Wade groaned and gripped his cock with a firm hand between them.

  
“Oh, _fuck_!”

  
“Maybe later, Spidey. You like that?” He gave his wrist a twist that made Peter bite his bottom lip.

  
“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded. Peter let his head fall forward onto Deadpool’s leather-covered shoulder, kissing at his neck. “Can I-?” he asked breathlessly.

  
“Can you what?” Deadpool asked, his voice gentle even as he yanked Peter’s head back up by the hair at the base of his neck.

  
Peter licked his lips and tried to string the words together. “Oh- Can I...mmph-Can I taste you? Sir,” he added for good measure. The hand on his dick stilled.

  
“Holy mother of- _fuck_ yes. Touch yourself, Spidey,” he ordered, wrenching both hands off of Peter in order to remove his belts and pouches.

  
Peter stroked himself slowly, watching Wade’s hands nimbly unbuckle and unsnap his gear. Finally, he unsnapped the neck and started to unzip the suit, revealing his bare chest and stomach as he glanced at Peter, hesitating.

  
“Please?” Peter asked, licking his lips. Wade opened his mouth to speak but caught sight of Spider-man fisting himself shamelessly and seemed to let his own insecurities fall, kicking his boots into a corner and stripping off the suit.

  
“You can do fucking anything you want, sugar.” Deadpool answered finally. Peter didn't waste any time pushing him against the wall and dropping to his knees. “Oh fuck, yeah. You never sucked a dick before, did ya Spidey?” Peter tilted his head up, shaking in the negative. “A virgin mouth,” he ran his hand through Peter’s hair, not pulling, but almost petting him. “I’m not gonna last long,” he admitted, warningly.

  
“Neither am I,” he said, and dove in. Wade groaned, hands smacking the wall behind him. Peter ran his tongue along the veined underside of Wade’s cock as he pulled back, watching his reaction.

  
“Oh-Jesus, _ahh_ -!” Wade scratched at the wall behind him as Peter dipped back down, a little further this time and with his mouth a little wetter. He reached his left hand up to grab Wade’s ass and returned his other hand to his own leaking erection as he started to bob his head.

 

“Spidey... _fuck_! ‘M gonna-”

  
Peter gripped the back of Wade’s thigh as he tried to pull away, fighting with him for a brief moment before Wade let out a high-pitched whimper and Peter felt come fill the back of his throat. He swallowed, not really even tasting it until he let Wade pull him off.

  
“Motherfucking-” Deadpool tried to steady his breathing as he looked down at Spider-man, on his knees and wearing only the mask, stroking his prick. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything you want me to-”

  
“Nnng,” Peter let his head fall back to look up at Wade’s face. “Talk to me?” he asked.

  
“Yeah, I can do that. You like it when I talk to you, babe? There’s so much I wanna do to you I don’t even know where to start.” He laced a hand through Peter’s hair where it stuck out of the bottom of the mask. “I wanna fuck you so hard, Spidey. I’d even let you do me if you wanna. I wanna taste your come first, though. I bet you taste so good. I’d eat you every day, baby. Did I taste good, Spidey? Did you like sucking my cock?” He pulled his hair a little tighter and Peter moaned, as Wade ran a rough thumb over his bottom lip. “I sure as fuck liked watching you blow me. Your pretty lips all over my dick-fucking perfect. Wanna see you come for me,” he said. “Come for me, Spidey…”

  
Peter nodded desperately. “Mm-!”

  
“That’s it, baby. Next time I’ll swallow. You were so good to swallow me. I wanna kiss you so I can taste it on you. Let me watch you come.” Wade watched his mouth open in a silent scream and his body shudder as he gasped for breath, spilling over his hand.

  
Wade held him upright and stroked his face until he began to recover. “Couch?” he grunted. Peter nodded and let Wade lead him across the room. They collapsed, naked from their noses down, and Peter half-sprawled across Wade’s chest.

  
“Thank you,” Peter spoke finally.

  
Wade shifted beneath him and brought a hand up to Spider-man’s face again. “Trust me, you don’t gotta thank _me_ ,” he said lazily. He stroked his bottom lip softly. “Sorry...I didn’t last long. It’s been a long while since anyone has-”

  
“Wade, it’s fine,” he assured. “I’m definitely not complaining, alright? B’sides, you’re not th’only one who’s had a dry spell lately.”

  
Deadpool chuckled. “Yeah?” he didn’t stop stroking Peter’s face, his thumb dipping under the edge of the mask, even tugging it a little. Peter just smiled, and Wade let his head fall back against the arm of the couch, exhausted.

 

* * *

 

“Oh man, I’m just as fucked up as he is,” Spider-man sighed. “What’s wrong with me?” He hung his head in his hands, staring out over the edge of the rooftop at the dark city below. “It’s his fault. I never...well, I guess I-”

  
“Ooh, and you talk about me being cray-cray?”

  
Spider-man groaned. “Fuck you, Wade. And ‘cray-cray’?”

  
Deadpool grinned. “If you wanna. I’m all kinda cray-cray, baby. But what’s making you talk to yourself on this lovely evening?”

  
“ _Nothing_ ,” Spider-man said quickly, a little too harsh.

  
Deadpool blinked. “Right,” he looked down, expression hardening.

  
“I um...shit...”

  
“Look, I’m not expecting anything else from you, so you don’t have to go making things all weird, alright?”

  
Spider-man turned a blank mask toward him. “Great. Nothing has to be weird. That’s…”

  
“To be honest,” Deadpool continued, “I’m surprised it took you this long to freak out. Most people completely lose interest as soon as they see what’s under the suit. You actually managed to get off before the ugly turned you-”

  
“Wade, _shut the fuck up_ ,” Peter interrupted. He stood up and was right in Deadpool’s face before the mercenary had even registered the movement.

 

“Wha-?”

  
“Stop this,” Spider-man tore his mask up over his nose. “I don’t _care_ what you look like. I obviously find you attractive, despite the fact that you’re a man and a killer and the skin condition and your constant talking-”

  
“Oh, but I thought you _liked_ my dirty mouth?”

  
“But it doesn’t _matter_. It’s not important and that’s the _problem_ ,” Peter tried to explain, raising his voice. “ _You_ are the problem, Wade. You’re driving me _‘cray-cray’_ and I don’t know what the fuck you really want!”

  
Wade’s lecherous demeanor quickly dissipated. “Sweetums, I’m a greedy bastard. I want anything and everything you’re willing to give me. I never even expected as much as you’ve already done,” Wade ran his fingertips along Spider-man’s jaw.

  
“Fuck this,” Peter grabbed his own mask at the nape of his neck to slide it over his head.

  
Deadpool stiffened, staring. He didn’t react at all when Peter ripped his mask off too, revealing his scarred scalp and awestruck eyes.

  
“Wade,” Peter ran a finger over his temple, tracing the line of a dark scar down to his cheek.

  
“Spidey,” he said finally. He let out a giddy laugh as he met his eyes. “How the _fuck_ aren’t you getting laid with a face like that?”

  
“Shut _up_ ,” he laughed.

 

“Make me.”

  
Peter didn’t hesitate to kiss him. It was chaste, but firm, and it had the desired effect of making Wade stop talking. His eyes were still closed when Peter pulled back. “Wade?” his eyes snapped open. “D’ya wanna go get those burritos now?”

  
“ _God_ , you’re fucking perfect.”


End file.
